Potter's Resistance 1: Breaking Ties
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury, Scholastic, and Raincoast Books, and Warner Brothers Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to Harry Potter.
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Chapter 4: The man behind the
twinkling mask
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Harry was awoken by ringing of the alarm clock at six o'clock in the morning. He groaned and snuggled deeper in his beddings, wondering why he should even bother waking up.
Why couldn't that blasted dark lord just kill himself and let me go back to sleep, he thought indignantly. But than his drowsy eyes flew over the blur of his new book, Anarchia, standing at his bed table. Well, if I wake up, I get to see for myself what's such a big deal about that book. Not to mention have a chat with its charming artificial persona, he grumbled mentally. Feeling reasonably motivated, he stumbled out of the bed and started towards the bathroom.
Harry briefly stopped by the mirror and magically stretched the irises of his eyes, until his vision was perfect. It was another nice perk of being a Metamorphmagus. He looked around the room and spotted the blue phoenix that had been following him yesterday, perched on top of the closet.
"Still here, I see?" he asked the bird, who was just staring back at him impassively. Harry snorted and shook his head. He had no clue what to make out of his mysterious companion. Was the bird his pet? No, he wouldn't let Harry even touch him. Was he a spy? Hardly, since he would have already ratted him out to his master if that was the case. Besides, Harry doubted that any phoenix would agree to do something as underhanded as spying. That just didn't seem like their style. Still, Harry remained uncertain should he feed the damn past or chase him away? In the end, he decided to keep the current status quo. He was positive the avian would slip up sooner or later and reveal his true intentions.
With that thought, Harry stepped into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him. There was no way he would let that annoying turkey stare at him during his morning ritual.
Fifteen minutes later, Harry stepped out of the bathroom, freshly showered and ready to start the day. He looked at Anarchia longingly but quickly reprimanded himself for even thinking about skipping his morning exercises.
Harry then removed the towel from around his waist and threw it in the laundry basket. Completely naked, he nonchalantly approached the closet and started rummaging through it, looking for clothes.
"Hope you're enjoying the show," he grumbled at the phoenix standing above him. As the bird nodded happily, his eyes briefly twinkling, making Harry recoil in surprise.
"God, I hope you're not Dumbledore in his Animagus form. That would have been really creepy," Harry said to the phoenix, visibly shuddering at the thought.
The bird seemed torn between amusement and indignation, which made Harry feel a little better. Well, I guess he isn't... which doesn't change the fact he's an annoying peep, he thought, while putting on his workout gear, which consisted of a white t-shirt, black shorts and sneakers. Harry absolutely refused to keep wearing his cousin's castoffs, now that the Dursleys weren't around anymore to ask questions about his finances. That's why he bought himself a completely new set of muggle wardrobe the first chance he got after his 'escape'.
Deeming himself ready for morning exercises, Harry walked to the corner of the room and carefully ducked inside the invisible tent he knew it was there. He found himself in a spacious hall, with pieces of workout equipment scattered all over the place. The room would have looked like an ordinary school gym, if there weren't for various strange objects spread over the floor - balls of various sizes, wooden targets with scorch-marks on them, showroom dummies, brick walls, stones, some furniture and many other knick-knacks that Harry was using for spell practice. A second later, his phoenix companion flew into the room and settled down on one of the cabinets in the centre of the hall. Harry chose to ignore the bird and went on with his daily training regime.
After a light warm-up, Harry started with his morning run. The room was smaller than normal gym, so Harry's score yesterday had been 45 laps around the room. He decided to do 46 today. After 15 - 20 minutes of running, he moved onto the other exercises. He did 20 push-ups, 50 sit-ups and variety of other exercises, always doing at least a little bit more than yesterday. Harry had been gradually increasing the difficulty of his morning workout and now, after a month of relentless practice, the results were clearly showing. He wasn't looking weak and underfed anymore. His sleek muscles were now much more defined, especially around his arms and chest. Without his thick glasses, Harry had to admit that he looked alright - not exactly Mister-Universe material, but he certainly wasn't a gaunt little boy anymore. His overall endurance was also much better than before, allowing him to jog for miles before tiring up.
After finishing with standard drill, Harry moved onto the central part of his regime, which was weight lifting. During the next twenty minutes, he did a special set of exercises, all involving small hand-held weights or weight-bands and movements designed to augment specific groups of arm muscles. Biceps, triceps, trapezius, deltoids, even chest muscle groups... each group had its individual workout, separate for strength and dexterity.
Strong arms may not seem all that important for a magic user, but that's the mistake that many wizards often make. All the flicking and swishing that is required for casting spells tends to become rather taxing during drawn-out duels. Fatigued arms could easily shudder during a critical motion, causing a miscast of some life-saving spell, like a shield for example. Harry was well aware that many duels are won not by outsmarting or outpowering your opponents, but by wearing them down - forcing them to make that one crucial mistake and then using that opening to bring them down. That's why all the duellers worth their salt must train themselves not only magically, but physically as well. At least, that much was plainly said in the stolen copy of the standard Auror textbook Harry had bought in one of the Knockturn Alley's two bookstores that he knew of.
After he was done working on his arms, Harry did several warming down exercises and left the tent. He vaguely noticed the phoenix still following him around, curiously observing his every move. Maybe he's just some sort of a crazy scientist, studying wizards in their natural environment, Harry snorted at that thought as he retreated to the bathroom to take another shower.
Five minutes later found Harry showered and fresh, dressed in comfortable muggle garments, with training weights strapped to his forearms. He was always wearing them when he wasn't going outside, increasing the weight a little each several days.
Moving around with additional burden made Harry feel even more physically drained than he was after the exercises, but his mind was more than eager to finally tackle the mystery of Anarchia. With a self-satisfied sigh, Harry threw himself on the bed and eagerly placed the mysterious book before him on the table.
As soon as his hand touched the cover, intent on opening the book, familiar green beam shot from the gem on the cover and hit him right in the eyes.
"Ah, Mister Potter, I see you have finally decided to grace me with a visit. I hope it wasn't too much of an inconvenience for you?" asked Anarchia's aristocratic voice mockingly.
Harry was not in the least surprised that the book knew his real identity and that it protected it during his initiation with Joseph. After all, interest groups like Anarchia are largely based on secrecy of its members. Harry was also aware that the book was only trying to rile him up, so he replied accordingly. "Please accept my deepest apologies, Marvin. I was much too tired last night to study, but I'm more than willing to remedy the situation today... I just hope that your contents would live up to your more than formidable reputation?" he asked as snidely as possible.
"Oh, I am sure you'll find that I have a lot to offer, Mr. Potter. Especially to someone as... sought after, as you are. Now, Mr. Potter, I hope you understand the consequences of turning the society over to the authorities or sharing anything you learn here with the outsiders, in any shape or form?"
"You're in my brain, you tell me," Harry replied simply. He knew perfectly well that snitching out on the society could prove to be a rather stupid move, judging by the late Pigbrow's fate.
"Very well, Mr. Potter. Even though your manners leave a lot to be desired for, I would have to admit that your heart is in the right place... for now. You may proceed with your study session. Have a productive day."
Harry was about to reply "you too," but stopped himself when he realized that the book couldn't possibly produce anything. While he was pondering that, the beam disappeared and the book opened itself with a slight click.
Harry turned the pages eagerly, itching to see what this Anarchia was all about. He quickly skipped through the section dealing with the rules of the society. They were all quite simple and basically came down to the same thing; "Speak to no one and devote your entire life to serving Anarchia. Make one mistake and you're gone."
Of course, Harry suspected that real-life rules were somewhat milder than stated in the rulebook. Otherwise, the society would have run out of its members a long time ago. The rules were probably just a way for the artificial intelligence to 'forgive' a rouge member's transgression and then hold their 'crimes' against them in further cooperation. Of course, the poor soul would have to keep 'redeeming' themselves by doing various 'favours' for the society they had 'betrayed'. Rather cruel motivational technique but probably very effective in the long run.
The next section was a sort of manual for using the book. It seemed that Anarchia was magical through and through. It allowed various types of content sorting and even had a built-in 'search' feature. Its pages were conjured at real-time by the book itself, depending on the current filter. To Harry, it all seemed like a wizarding version of muggle electronic database, which was truly fascinating, considering that the book had been enchanted hundreds of years ago.
Harry skipped over the next few pages, which dealt with initiation of new members, and found a huge index of articles that went on for dozens of pages. Each article had fields for the title, the type of information contained, the author's nickname and the date of posting. Harry glanced at the first several entries and raised his eyebrows in surprise. The titles were:
• Evasion of forced recruitment for the Goblin rebellion of 1538
• Minister Bullstrode responsible for keeping the king Henry VIII heirless
• How to evade restrictions for breeding Dragons - make your backyard seem large enough
• Raising inferi despite the Ministry ban - both pets and bodyguards
• The best hunting grounds for Werewolves in England - Keep the muggle population in check
The list went on and on with similar ridiculous advices that had place nowhere near 20th century. Harry then glanced at the 'date' fields and it all became clear. The index was currently sorted by the 'date' column in ascending order, so that the oldest postings appeared on the top of the listing. Harry vaguely noticed that all the authors on the first page were Anarchia's six founders.
Harry then decided to try out the sorting function. As instructed, he tapped the word 'Date' on top of the page with his wand. The pages started turning really quickly, as if an invisible wind was blowing through them. When it all stopped, at the top of the list were now the latest entries, starting from the June of 1996. Harry glanced at the descriptions and found them much more to his liking - legal possibilities for using Dark Arts against the Death Eaters, confidential dossiers of the new auror recruits, tips on how to avoid recruitment by the Dark Lord and so on. Of course, there was also a variety of standard magical articles, unrelated to current political issues.
One title especially caught Harry's eye: "Detailed description of the battle at the Department of Mysteries, on June 14th, 1996", by the author 'Christmas Stockings'.
Intrigued, Harry tapped his wand at the title. Pages started turning on their own accord again, until they stopped at the requested article. With a growing horror, Harry skimmed through what seemed to be a chillingly detailed description of the battle that went on inside those halls. From a full listing of the people involved, excluding Sirius Black for some reason, over spells they had used, to the detailed description of Dumbledore's duel with the Dark Lord and his subsequent escape, everything seemed unusually detailed and which was even worse, completely correct.
Harry angrily tapped the 'Back to index' link at the top of the page, clenching his teeth in annoyance. How could this 'Christmas' person possibly know the whole story behind that debacle? Unless... Harry vaguely remembered a conversation he once had with Dumbledore, about how the old man would like nothing better than to receive a pair of woollen socks for Christmas, instead of more books.
It got to be Dumbledore behind that nickname, Harry decided. Who else could describe the duel between him and Voldemort in so many details? I certainly didn't. Fudge and his cohorts had arrived too late to see enough. That only leaves Voldemort, and he could have hardly kept his membership during his decade long hiatus from the physical world... if he had even been a member in the first place.
Naturally, Harry was well aware that this whole 'socks' thing was probably just another titbit of fake persona that Dumbledore had created for himself, but it wasn't as well known fact as his twinkling eyes or obsession with sweets. Actually, it was the perfect quirk for his nickname, since only his closest allies could possibly connect all the dots. If he used something like 'Lemon dropper' or 'Twinkles', too many people would immediately recognize him. Of course, the most secure variant would have been not to use anything remotely related with his persona, or to change his nickname with each new entry. But Harry theorized that Dumbledore was much too self-conceited to flaunt his knowledge without taking at least some sort of credit for it.
Harry briefly considered that all this could be just his anger speaking. After all, how could all those people that worship the old man be wrong and only Harry right? Was the old man truly so arrogant and certain in his position to take such a foolish risk, just for the sake of making a private joke that only he could ever understand?
But then, Harry thought back to their conversation from the end of his first year. "...It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something..." he remembered Dumbledore gushing over himself, with a self-satisfied twinkle in his eyes.
Nope, I am right. The old man is vain to the bone, Harry concluded. He carefully filed that titbit of information for later. That was one of the rare weaknesses he was able to find on Dumbledore and he had every intention of using it in their future confrontations.
With that thought, Harry forced his attention back to the business at hand. So, Dumbledore is a member of Anarchia. I should have known that the old goat couldn't pass up on the opportunity of sticking his overlong nose here as well, Harry mused, satisfied with his discovery. And then he had the gall to use the information provided by his soldiers and students to extend his own personal membership. Not exactly the most noble thing to do, but Harry now knew better then to idolize the old man.
After this surprising discovery, Harry decided to see what other articles had Dumbledore posted and try out the sorting function at the same time. He took out his new wand and said, "Sententia Impartio," while making the wand movements described in the book's user guide. This spell was commonly used to relegate passwords to sentient guardians, like portraits or the Headmaster's gargoyle at Hogwarts, without the fear of being overheard. The creators of Anarchia, on the other hand, used it to create a sort of a user interface for the book's search function.
Harry raised his eyebrow in surprise when his wand immediately lit up with bright light, as it should. Always before, it took him at least several minutes to make even the simplest spell work, however hard he tried. This limited his learning capabilities to a dozen spells per day at best, which had been driving him crazy during past the several weeks of intensive training. Never before was he so envious of Hermione, who was able to get results after only several attempts.
It must be a ridiculously easy spell... Or I'm just having a good day, Harry shrugged off the incident and turned back to issue at hand.
He pressed the glowing wand at the book and thought of the key phrase, "Author: 'Christmas Stockings'; Search!"
He cancelled the spell when the book started rearranging itself. When the invisible wind quieted down, he saw completely different index than before. At the top of the page was written: "Search filter: Author - 'Christmas Stockings'". Below were listed all the entries made by Dumbledore since he had became a member, back in 1897.
Harry then inspected the entries and found that the type of information that Dumbledore had been posting varied greatly with the passage of time.
His earliest articles were mostly about spell-work, duelling tricks, alchemy, transfiguration and other magic-related stuff. Harry glanced over the topics and realized just why was Dumbledore widely recognized as the greatest wizard in a century. His mind was simply brilliant, his knowledge breathtaking. Some of the topics that Dumbledore discussed at length were barely touched in Harry's most advanced books. Harry immediately saw that the old man's early works would prove invaluable in his pursuit for forbidden knowledge.
However, his corruption became evident as the time passed and the old man pilled more and more political titles under his belt. Harry quickly realized that his ex-mentor's blatant disclosure of the events at Department of Mysteries wasn't a lone case by the long shot. Dumbledore's articles from the second half of 20th century were almost entirely consisted of giving out classified, inside information on various organizations of which he was a member. Harry was surprised at the amount of dirt the old man had disclosed about Wizengamot, the Ministry, International Confederation of Wizards, Hogwarts staff and - Harry just couldn't believe it - even the Order of the Phoenix! It seems that mister 'greatest wizard in the century' didn't felt like sharing his extensive magical knowledge with mere mortals, so instead he decided to betray all the organizations he was a member of, even the one he created himself. For Christ's sake, the man was a spy in his own army!
Harry's respect for his Headmaster was shaken even further by this revelation. Dumbledore maybe refuses to use the Dark Arts or torture people, but he is nevertheless corrupted by the power. Admittedly, his corruption isn't as evident as Riddle's, but that only makes the old man even more dangerous, Harry decided, as he quietly followed his ex-mentor's gradual transformation, from a teacher and magical prodigy, into a politician and puppeteer he was today.
Harry inspected Dumbledore's articles further and found himself dumbfounded by the lengths the old men had gone in order to extend his membership, without revealing his personal secrets. He shook his head in disbelief at entries such as "Order of the Phoenix - Secret vigilante organization" from 1968, or "Members of the Order of the Phoenix - Complete dossiers," from 1973, or "Severus Snape - Numerous crimes of the potions master," from 1979, or... No way, he wouldn't... Yes he would!, Harry thought as he double-checked the next title... "The whereabouts of the Boy-Who-Lived - Where is he hidden?" from 1982! Harry just couldn't believe that the old coot would deliver him to his abusive relatives, 'so he could be protected', and then disclose his location for his own personal gain.
Harry scanned for more entries about himself and managed to find an especially interesting piece of work: "The Boy-Who-Lived is being abused - Meet the Dursleys," from 1989.
Fucking bastard! Like hell he didn't know how were they treating me, Harry grumbled mentally, but in all honesty, he couldn't say he was overly surprised by this discovery. Ever since he had heard the Prophecy, Dumbledore's story about not checking up on his 'Chosen One' seemed rather suspicious to Harry.
The man is a control freak if there ever was one, Harry had mused after their last meeting. He would never leave his precious weapon in some shithole, unattended for 10 years. After all, I already know that he'd had that Figg woman and Dedalus Diggle spying on me. How many minders, recording spells and tests did I miss over the years?
Harry had to admit that he was feeling rather saddened and disappointed by all this revelations about his ex idol. Even after his 'rebellion', Harry had still been considering Dumbledore for a good man, who just had a tendency to overstep his boundaries in his great desire to protect the Wizarding world. This new discoveries had definitely shattered that theory. It turned out that the old goat was absolutely ruthless and unscrupulous in pursuing his own ambitions.
However, it was the next entry that truly made Harry's blood boil with outrage and hatred. "Sirius Black - Innocent man in Azkaban," from the December of 1981!
"He knew!" Harry yelled at the empty room, making his phoenix jump in surprise. "That fucking bastard knew all along!"
Harry was taking deep breaths trying to calm himself down. How could he have known? This is posted immediately after the Halloween! Unless... Harry paused, trying to make his angry brain think rationally. Would James Potter really keep the truth about the identity of his secret keeper from the great Albus Dumbledore, his friend and commander? And would someone like Dumbledore truly let the fate of his potential weapon be decided by some lowly pawns, without his interference whatsoever?
No, Harry answered his own questions. He just couldn't imagine the old man letting things go without his supervision. Even if he hadn't been outright told by James or Lilly, Dumbledore would have definitely made it his business to check out whether Sirius was the real secret keeper or not. One look at their unprotected minds would have been enough to learn the truth.
But why was he pretending all this time that he didn't know about Sirius being innocent? And even more important, why hadn't he used his influence, as the head of Wizengamot, to get Sirius a fair trial? Or at least a retrial?, Harry asked himself, deciding that this article, more than any other, deserved his closer investigation.
With a shaky wand, Harry tapped the title. Once again pages started turning on their own accord again, until they stopped at the requested article. The page said:
• • • • •
Tap HERE to return to the index
Description: Sirius Black - Innocent man in Azkaban
Author: Christmas Stockings
Type of information: Intelligence
Date of posting: November 1981
Everyone should know by now what happened on the Halloween night two weeks ago (October 31, 1981). Lord Voldemort had attacked the Potters' place of residence - which was at time under the so-called Fidelius charm - and murdered James and Lilly Potter. However, when he turned his wand at 15-month-old Harry Potter, the killing curse rebounded back upon Voldemort himself, vanquishing him from existence and leaving young Harry with an already famous lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead.
It is also widely known that the Potters' secret keeper, Sirius Black, was arrested the very next day, and charged for betrayal of the Potter family and consequential murder of Peter Pettigrew, another old friend of the Potters. Mr. Black was immediately questioned and sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban prison. Since his guilt was evident and he confessed his crimes during the preliminary questioning, it was decided that there was no need for a full-fledged trial to take place.
But yours truly came to a possession of an astounding piece of information regarding this case. An extremely reliable source, ...
• • • • •
Yeah, like yourself, you meddling old goat, Harry thought viciously.
• • • • •
... whose authenticity had been confirmed by venerable Anarchia itself, claims that Sirius Black is in fact INNOCENT of the crimes he was convicted of. In fact, said source claims that Mr. Black actually wasn't the Potters' secret keeper at all. It turns out that it was all a part of an ingenious plan, conceived by Sirius Black himself, which had spectacularly backfired upon its creator and...
• • • • •
Harry stopped reading after this. The rest of the article dealt with the depressing story he already knew all about. He just didn't feel like going through that whole sad ordeal all over again. Harry was just about to close the book, when his eyes were caught by the very end of the article.
• • • • •
...little hope that young Mr. Black would ever see the light of day again.
NOTE: Sirius Black's criminal record (file number 163-1981) is NOT located in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's archive. Instead, the file is declared "Level 7 Confidential Information," and is being kept in the Ministry's main archive, at the ninth floor of the Ministry building. Sadly, access to it is denied to all but the highest-ranking Ministry officials.
• • • • •
Of course, Harry was well aware that Dumbledore had put this last note just to show off how politically powerful his 'source' was, but it still gave him a clue to follow. Harry was far from an expert on Wizarding law, but even he knew that any citizen have right to request access to any closed investigation file from the M.L.E.'s archive. So, why would an average criminal record be placed under such a high level of secrecy? It definitely reeked on interference from above and Harry had an unpleasant feeling to whom the paper trail would eventually lead him. Still, he decided to give his ex mentor one last benefit of a doubt.
Harry vowed that wouldn't stop looking, until he found out whether Dumbledore had honestly tried to keep Sirius from going to the jail, or had he purposefully pushed him to his doom. The answer to that question would decide whether Harry could ever forgive his ex-mentor's many transgressions or not. And if the answer turns out to be the one Harry feared the most, he would clench his teeth and somehow find a way to avenge the death of his godfather.
Even if I have to go against the great Albus Dumbledore himself to do so. I owe that much to Sirius, he concluded with determination as he copied the file number on a piece of paper and slammed the book shut. But for now, it's time for some breakfast, he decided as he put the paper in his pocket.
He spent the next ten minutes before a mirror, tweaking his features with his still relatively undeveloped Metamorphmagus abilities. This time he opted for an indistinguishable middle-aged male figure he often used for his legal outings. Done with that, he removed the weights from his arms, put on average grey robes and left the room, blue phoenix following behind him.
Fifteen minutes later found Harry sitting at a table, in the open garden of 'Aciocibus'. It was a nice middle-class restaurant, in Jamboree Alley district of the Diagon Alley. He was waiting for his breakfast, while browsing through the latest edition of Daily Prophet. He was slightly surprised that his disappearance hadn't reached the front page yet, but after some further thought, he saw it was most likely a part of Macmillan's tactics. It made perfect sense that Joseph would try to milk the Death Eaters and the Ministry for all they're worth, before selling the news to the press. Naturally, he would have to time his dealings very carefully, least someone else beat him to the prize, but Harry was more than confident Josh would come on top of his own game.
After one more glance at the small article about a burglary at the Goldwin manor, Harry folded the papers and retrieved a small note from his pocket. His eyes glazed over, as he spent next several minutes staring at the number of Sirius' case file, lost in his thoughts. He was trying to plot a way to get his hands on that damn file, but nothing he had thought of so far seemed good enough to actually work.
Before Harry left his room, he had briefly browsed through his "Ministry regulations guide book," and learned that Level 7 clearance was the highest security level available to British authorities. Of course, such official book didn't specify the exact security spells used on the facility, but Harry was certain they were more than formidable. What it did mention was that the only people allowed access to Level 7 records were the minister, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and, for criminal records, the auror in charge of the case. And even they weren't allowed to remove such files from the archives. They could read a file, copy it or add to it, but never take it with them outside the archives. Harry's Metamorphmagus ability had served him well so far, but he doubted he could simply morph into one of these people and waltz into the restricted area. Security measures at such important facility were bound to be too sophisticated to be beat by such a simple trick. Besides, even Voldemort, at the height of his power, never managed to break into these archives. What chance then did Harry have?
No, Harry decided, breaking in is definitely not an option, at least not with my current skills. The only way in is through one of the authorized personal. Harry snorted at that thought. Of course, I seriously doubt that Fudge, Dumbledore or Kingsley Shacklebolt would do me a favour and take a peek in the files for me... Hmm, speaking of the devil...
Harry was interrupted from his musings by a familiar pompous voice of Cornelius Fudge, yelling from somewhere down the street.
"How are you, my dear sir? ... Of course, there's nothing to be afraid of, the Ministry is on the top of things! Our aurors are working day and night..."
The small, obese man confidently strutted past Harry's table, followed by a throng of lackeys, bodyguards and ordinary people hoping to have a word with their leader. Fudge was currently boosting aloud the actions that the Ministry had taken to stop the new rise of You-Know-Who, trying to impart his voters with the confidence he himself didn't feel.
Ever since he was forced to admit Voldemort's return, Fudge has been bending over backwards to prove how the Wizarding Britain was still a safe place for its citizens. Of course, keeping a brave face and preventing panic from spreading were just his 'official' goals. His real motivation for leaving the comfort of his office was probably to try to regain some of his shaken popularity. Harry had yet to see it in person, but judging by the newspapers' enthusiastic reports, Fudge was doing baby-kissing rounds like this all over the Wizarding Britain. Every few days he would make an appearance in one of the magical enclaves and for an hour or so try to boost general morale and up his rating a bit. The message was supposed to be "If the Minister isn't afraid to go outside, so shouldn't you." Of course, ordinary wizards and witches didn't have throngs of aurors watching their every step...
With that thought, Harry absentmindedly redirected his attention from Fudge to his auror escorts. His interest peaked when he noticed there were actually two different teams of guards, that apparently didn't like each other very much - normal aurors and Fudge's personal bodyguards. Ordinary aurors were covering a wider area, looking rather annoyed by their current assignment. They were obviously taken from much more important tasks, like hunting down the Death Eaters, so they could babysit the minister during his Public Relations stunt. The bodyguards, on the other hand, were formed into a tight circle around Fudge. With their smug faces and uptight postures, they clearly radiated an air of self-importance at having such privileged positions. Harry frowned when he saw that they their commander was Fudge's head of security, Dawlish, the guy who had almost killed Professor McGonagall two months ago.
Harry glared at the stocky auror for a second or two, but his attention was quickly caught by another bodyguard in the Minister's entourage. Even though the bloke was dressed the same as the other goons, he was easily distinguished by being shorter, weaker, younger and visibly less skilled than his colleagues. While his fellow bodyguards worked fluidly as a team, radiating determination and confidence, this kid was stumbling around like a lost puppy, obviously not entirely certain what was he supposed to be doing. It was clear he had gotten this job either as some sort of a political favour, or by showing great deal of blind loyalty to the Minister himself - Or in other words, by being a Percy-class sycophant.
"Move out of the way, citizens! Minister Cornelius Fudge is about to pass here!" he was explaining pompously to the group of people, his nose stuck up high in the air, chest puffed up in self-importance.
"Pederson! Get over here, you moron!" yelled Dawlish from down the road. At his words, the pompous kid faltered and blushed furiously when he saw that Fudge's cortège had changed direction while he was 'directing' he onlookers.
Pederson turned back to the snickering crowd of people and stuttered our, "Err... Since Minister Fudge had decided to... change his route, you now have permission to return to your previous doings at your own discretion. The Ministry of Magic and Minister Fudge himself wishes you a pleasant day..."
"Pederson! Stop that nonsense and get your butt over here! Right now!" yelled Dawlish again.
"Yes sir! Coming sir!" strutted Pederson and left running, leaving the outright laughing group of pedestrians behind. He ran right past furious Dawlish and started speaking directly to the minister.
So, he's Fudge's protégée amongst his bodyguards. One idiot making the other company, Harry mused amusedly.
"Sir, Minister, auror Pederson reporting for duty, sir! I offer my sincere apologies for not foreseeing..." his stumbling was quickly interrupted by Fudge, who hadn't even given him a second look.
"Yes, yes... Dawlish! We are going down that alley and then we are done for the day."
"Yes sir," said the stocky Auror and started giving out orders to his men, pointedly ignoring the young idiot. He then ordered Pederson to follow the proceedings from behind and try not to bother the minister again.
No, definitely not Fudge's protégée, Harry changed his mind after he saw Fudge dismissing the kid like he was nothing.
Nobody but Harry noticed a bitter and jealous look that Pederson gave Dawlish when his back was turned. It seemed that the young auror's career was on a downward track and the ambitious sycophant was getting quite desperate. He was obviously shooting for Dawlish's job, but by the look of things, he was more likely to get sacked than promoted any time soon. He was obviously at odds with the rest of the team, who saw him as something of a joke. And judging by Fudge's cold dismissal, he wasn't likely to get any support there either. Whatever favour or influence this Pederson-person had used to get this post was long gone now, leaving him hanging solely on his own not-so-considerate skills. Shortly, he was royally screwed.
Harry intently observed the young man stumble down the street, wishfully watching Fudge's inner circle. The plan was slowly forming in his mind.
Yes, this plan could actually work..., Harry mused thoughtfully. Little underhanded, but it's all for the greater good.
Harry stopped, blinked in surprise and then snorted at his last comment. Shit, I sounded like Dumbledore for a moment there... I wonder if this is how he started...
But that train of thoughts was interrupted when his food had finally arrived. Harry gave one last look at the idiot auror, strutting behind Fudge's group.
So, young Pederson craves authority and respect? Well, you know what they say. Be careful what you wish for, it just might come true.
Harry smirked nastily at that thought and than eagerly dug in, forgetting all about his earlier misgivings.
It was 9:30 when Harry returned to his room, reasonably full and ready to continue with his studies. Ok now, what should I do next?, he asked himself, while mentally listing all the areas he had been working on these past weeks.
When Harry had first started with this whole 'train on your own' business, he was full of ideas about large timetables, strict schedules, study plans and so on. Those ideas were shattered as soon as he tried to apply them in reality. It turned out that without Hermione's slave-driving, he was always breaking and rearranging his self-made schedule - learning runes when he was supposed to do potions, practicing basic Occlumency instead of silencing spells and so on. When Harry tried to analyze his inability to create and follow his own work-plan, he came to a very enlightening conclusion - he was definitely NOT an orderly-studious type of guy. In fact, he was a rather chaotic and artistic type, who could do great things when properly motivated and inspired, or otherwise stare at the same page for hours at end. At first, Harry suspected that he was simply mentally justifying his own laziness, but then he remembered his success with the DA. His defence ability had simply bloomed when he was studying on his own, choosing what spells to learn next by himself, instead of following someone else's lesson plans and programs.
After this self-revelation, Harry had dropped all pretences of following plans and schedules. The only constants in his schedule remained a workout in the morning and mind-clearing exercises in the evening. The rest of the day, Harry would spend studying whatever he felt like at, as long as it fit in with his long-term plans. The results of this new study method proved to be very promising. If he managed to keep this level of success during the following school year, Harry was certain that his theory grades would be second only to Hermione's.
Unfortunately, Harry was well aware that, even with this improved learning method, he would still need several years of relentless practice to come even close to matching Voldemort's current skills in duelling alone, not to mention other branches of magic. After all, the man had spent almost 20 years travelling the world in pursuit of knowledge. Yes, most of that time he had spent in seeking immortality and gathering resources for his campaign, but Harry was well aware that the Dark Lord had picked up a lot of rare and dangerous magical lore throughout his two decades long odyssey.
At one point, Harry had even considered leaving England altogether and training in seclusion for the next decade or so, however long it took until he was ready. In the end, he decided against it. The last thing he needed was to give Voldemort enough time to take over Great Britain, consolidate his power and surround himself with an army. Taking him down at that point would not only require enormous amounts of logistics, manpower and time, but also cause a country-wide civilian casualties and destruction on a scale never seen before.
Getting tangled into this sort of a drawn-out war between two grand armies is the last thing Harry wanted. He had no intention of spending his entire life fighting against Voldemort. He just wanted the whole Prophecy business done and over with as cleanly and painlessly as possible.
That's why it was essential that the Dark Lord's expansion be stalled, if not stopped altogether. Harry needed the current status quo kept in place until he grows strong enough to face Voldemort on equal terms and end this conflict once and for all. What he needed was a resistance - a constant friction in the wheels of the Dark Lord's progress. And since no one else had the guts to do what needed to be done, it was obvious he would have to stick around and see to it himself.
But Harry knew perfectly well that all his plans rested on one crucial factor - him getting ready before the Dark Lord consolidates his defences and puts himself out of a single man's reach. And to ensure his victory in this race against time, some rather drastic measures had to be undertaken.
Thinking of drastic measures... maybe I should check up on them. It wouldn't do to waste all those rare ingredients just because of my tardiness, Harry decided, rousing himself from his musings. He walked down to his other invisible tent and stepped inside, the blue phoenix on his tail.
Harry found himself in what looked like an average wizarding apartment. There was a small kitchen on the left, with a dining room attached to it, cosy but simple living room, bathroom and five bedrooms. Only one bedroom remained unchanged, while the others were altered by Harry himself, to better suit his specific needs. Harry approached the door with a rather childish drawing of an exploding caldron attached to it. This picture was Harry's idle attempt of testing whether his newfound artistic character reached further than his abyssal studying habits. Unfortunately, it didn't. Harry frowned at the drawing and entered the room, followed by his phoenix companion.
The room's walls were lined by shelves stacked with various potion ingredients. Spread across were six large silver cauldrons, five of which were in use at the moment. The first cauldron contained Harry's third attempt at making Veritaserum. On a console beside it was a muggle notebook, filled with precise notes about the whole brewing process and detailing a number of theories on why the first two batches had gone wrong. After briefly checked the simmering liquid's colour and density, Harry scribbled a few observations in his notepad and moved on.
The second cauldron contained almost completed batch of Polyjuice potion. Harry had already mastered this potion during his fifth year, as a part of preparations for his O.W.L.-s. His motivation at the time was purely academic, but he still decided to secretly keep the results, "just in case". That turned out to be a wise decision, since those ten vials were put up to good use during his escape from Privet Drive.
The final three cauldrons contained mysterious, highly illegal and expensive concoctions, which represented the ultimate solution for all of Harry's learning problems. In front of the cauldrons with pitch black, sky blue and radiant green potions stood one of Morhad Arven's journals. It was opened to a page titled 'Cerebrum trafero - Mind-enhancing ritual'. This page was the main reason Harry had paid so much money for this collection.
The idea for doing something like this originated from the second week of Harry's freedom. Back then, after browsing through numerous books and analyzing a variety of study-plans, he finally decided he would need to cheat in some way if he was ever going to catch up with Voldemort. Having made that wise conclusion, he started analyzing a variety of different ideas for achieving that goal. He contemplated the ups and downs of time manipulation. He made a study of methods for stealing someone else's knowledge, through either Legilimency or rituals. He even considered swallowing his pride and turning back to Dumbledore for help.
Finally, the perfect solution presented itself when one of his pub acquaintances mentioned that a number of ways to enhance one's learning capacity can be found in the Arven's collection, which had luckily just been made available for purchase. Explanation was that Morhad, the bookworm that he was, had paid special attention to gathering spells, potions and rituals that would enable him to cram in large amounts of information as quickly and painlessly as possible. And indeed, the journals were simply brimming with study-oriented lore, from copy-protection erasers to temporary memory enhancers. But as soon as Harry laid eyes on the aforesaid ritual, all other options evaporated from his mind.
Cerebrum trafero ritual offers three different boons to the wizard performing it - increased learning capacity, photographic memory and lowered need for sleep to only one hour per day. It would have been too god to be true, if there weren't for two huge downsides.
The first one was its incompatibility with some widely-spread power-enhancing rituals, which made it a very unpopular choice amongst the Dark Lord wannabes. Taking in consideration that the majority of wizards who would even consider rituals, mostly wanted to improve their performance in combat and other flashy types of magic, it became clear why this ritual was rather obscure in the Dark Wizard circles.
The second downside, and the one Harry have had much harder time dealing with, was the price. The problem was that the ritual required some very rare and expensive ingredients. Rare plants and body parts of protected animal species - those Harry could handle. He could always rationalize that the illegal market would keep running, with or without his purchase. What really made his stomach clench was the final ingredient required for powering up the transfer. And like in all Druidic rituals, it was a human sacrifice.
When Harry first came across this section in the ritual's instruction sheet, his first instinct was to close the 'evil' book, burn it and Oblivate himself from even considering something like that. After all, hadn't Voldemort become what he is today by sacrificing human beings for his own benefit? Isn't killing for power evil? Isn't killing of any kind wrong? Would he become corrupted and turn into another version of Voldemort?
But then, his little Slytherin voice of reason started speaking, fighting against his Gryffindor impulses. Voldemort had disfigured himself most likely because of obscure immortality rituals clashing with each other. After all, the Dark Lord was well known for his grotesque experiments, always pushing the limits beyond what any sane man would be willing to endure. Dark wizards had been performing standard, well-tested rituals, with or without human sacrifices, for thousands of years. Most of them had come out none the worse.
Then there was the problem of killing - but then again, Harry was already destined to become a killer. Like it or not, he would get involved in the war and, sooner or later, he would be forced to take another man's life to save his own. So, what is the difference between taking a life in a duel and using it in a ritual? In both cases, Harry's primary motive is his own survival and consequent salvation of the Wizarding world. Yes, on a first glance, a cold-blooded murder seems a lot worse than killing in self-defence. But are these two really that different, or are they merely two sides of the same coin? Is it possible that the only difference between 'murdering' and 'killing' an enemy is a misguided sense of honour? In either case, one human being benefits from the other human being's death. Is the method of this death so important, that losing a war because of it is worth the cost?
This internal debate raged for several hours. Harry was well aware that his final decision would have far-reaching consequences, not only for himself, but for the entire Wizarding world as well. In the end, the cold logic prevailed. Bottom line was, Harry needed to perform the ritual, whether he liked it or not. The only alternative would be wasting several additional years on training, during which many good people, including Harry's friends and acquaintances, would surely perish.
No, Harry simply wasn't ready to exchange his and the lives of his few friends for the life of a single death eater scumbag he needed for the ritual; The life that had been forsaken the moment the poor idiot was branded as the Dark Lord's personal property. Besides, what was the alternative? Do the so-called 'right thing' and hand the poor bastard over to the Ministry? They'd only end up shipping him off to Azkaban and throwing away the key, which is the fate even worse than death. This way, instead of wasting it on Dementors, the murdering bastards' life force would be used to atone for at least some of the atrocities they had surely committed during their Death Eater career.
Having finally decided he would truly go on with the ritual, Harry started thinking which Death Eater would be the most suitable candidate for the sacrifice. Not just any poor old muggle bum could be taken from his deathbed and chopped up for ingredients. No, Cerebrum trafero required a healthy, magical and above all intelligent person to be used as a sacrifice. Intelligence of the 'donor' was especially important, seeing how it directly determined the transfer's efficiency. People like Crabble or Goyle wouldn't work as well as someone like Malfoy for example, or... Harry diverted his eyes to the folder besides the Arven's journal. On the cover stood a single name written in bold letters - 'Augustus Rookwood'.
Harry hadn't had to search too long before the ex-Unspeakable's name came up. After having Joseph compile him a dossier on the guy, the same one he was currently holding, his initial reasoning was confirmed and the target was set. The Azkaban escapee seemed to be just the perfect combination of intellect and wickedness that Harry was looking for. The man was not only an ex-Ravenclaw and the best student of his generation, but he had also managed get recruited by the prestigious Department of Mysteries, the bureau that is known to take only the best of the best. Even his Death Eater achievements were nothing less than stellar; His unobtrusive and flexible intelligence network had been a great asset to Voldemort during his first uprising. Just glancing at this impressive resume had convinced Harry he had found the perfect man for the 'job'. A perfect combination of sharp intellect - to power up the ritual - and a heavy criminal record - to appease his conscience - had definitely sealed Rookwood's fate in Harry's book.
Of course, merely deciding on a plan didn't automatically make that plan come true. There were still complex potions to brew, incomprehensible runes to draw and a Death Eater to catch - and execute. So far, Harry had been busy brewing the needed potions and using that as an excuse not to think about practical aspects of sacrificing another human being in a dark ritual. Even glancing at some of the illustrations in the Arven's journal made his stomach clench with nervousness and self-disgust. But each time that happened, he would clench his teeth and push forwards. He had a destiny to fulfil and no misguided morals, nor egotistical self-serving ideals, nor yellow foam would stop him...
"Yellow foam? What the..." Harry looked at the cauldron with green potion and indeed, there was yellow foam slowly forming on the surface. I'm pretty sure this shouldn't be happening..., he mused as he checked in instructions. His examination was confirmed when various sensor wards around the cauldron went off. A temporary stasis field sprung up over the potion, as the alarm started wailing throughout the tent. "Yep, something's definitely gone wrong," he chirped mockingly and then sighed. "Crap!"
Having reinforced the stasis spell on the potion, Harry deactivated the alarms and gathered all his notes and potion books spread around the room. He neatly arranged them on the work-desk, sat at it and started scribbling his initial observations into a potion journal, getting ready for a long session of painstaking research and cross-referencing.
"This is gonna be a long day," he muttered glumly, as he opened his copy of 'McSpiffin's Encyclopaedia of Potion Diagnostics' and started sifting through thousands of pages, looking for the cause of his problem.
It was almost 4 PM when Harry finally finished adding last of the moonflower petals into the cauldron and steered three times clockwise, with variable speed. It took him 3 hours to figure out that the problem was probably with the Grundler's scales, which were seemingly taken just before the creature's shedding day. It wouldn't have mattered if there weren't for the slightly lower quality of Marcellus weed, which had probably been in contact with other ingredients, thus slightly decreasing its magical potency. After two more hours of studying several potion master's handbooks and journals, Harry finally figured out how to increase magical potency of the herbal part of the brew, without upsetting the other components. He eagerly waited for a reaction and let go a smile when he saw yellow foam disappearing from the surface. After making sure that there were no further complications, he added several more lines in his journal and closed it, nodding in satisfaction.
Harry smiled to himself when he realized how far he had advanced during the last several months. Faced with a situation like this, any rooky potion brewer, including himself a year ago, would have panicked and banished the 'ruined' potion, cursing his bad luck. Thankfully, Harry now knew better than that. Hours of intensive revision for taking his Potions O.W.L.-s, followed by even more intensive cramming after his escape made a strong impression on his Potions skills. For the first time in his life, he now truly understood the true nature of the potion brewing process, allowing him to correct glitches that inevitably come up, instead of destroying the botched concoction and starting again.
For gone were the days when potion instructions were simple glorified cooking recipes, that one just had to follow to the letter to get the job done. More advanced potions, starting from the fifth year and up, were simply too complicated to predict every possible reaction in advance. Instead, the brewer himself had to avidly monitor the brewing process and correct rising problems on the fly.
Harry finally realized this during his fifth year, after his robotic step-by-step brewing procedure had cost him five ruined potions in a row. Of course, Snape had been acting particularly smug and vindictive during those first several weeks. That's why Harry had paid special attention to his Potions revision, starting with the basics he had missed thanks to Snape's 'sink-or-swim' teaching technique. In the end, he did pretty well on his OWL-s. He figured he had a good shot at scoring a weak Outstanding and making it into Snape's advanced class. If not... well, there were other options he was considering.
Harry's potions training had only intensified when he started brewing complicated solutions needed for Cerebrum trafero ritual. After more than a month of watching over three cauldrons of journeyman-level potions, while trying to mix a NEWT-level and a master-level potion on the side, Harry could easily say that his potion skills had definitely risen up to the NEWT level, maybe even higher.
After one more check up of all the cauldrons and associated timers, Harry dragged himself to the living room and threw himself into one of the comfy couches there. He idly observed 'his' phoenix making himself at home at a nearby bookcase, while trying to figure out what to do next.
All this potion theory made my head spinning, he whined mentally. That's it. Some spell practice will clear my head.
He stood up and walked up to another door, with a crude cartoon of an old wizard reading some gigantic tome. I must have been drunk when I drew these, Harry grumbled mentally, as he entered the library.
Harry idly wandered amongst mostly empty shells, thinking what spells he might need in the following weeks. Harry had decided to postpone any serious studying, including duelling practice, until after the ritual. In the meantime, he was mostly practicing spells that could help him out in his current situation, where his main goal was to remain hidden.
After brief consideration, he decided to continue his studies of privacy and security spells from the book 'Being Slytherin for Advanced Commoners (Volume 2) - Subtle spell-work,' by Leonard Underclaw. Since this book contained mostly borderline legal spells, it was full of Ministry disclaimers, warning the readers about dangers of using such spells in a modern society and other advices on how to remain a good little sheep. Even with all these warnings and restrictions in place, described spells were still mostly defensive in their nature. Thankfully, the author, being a Slytherin that he was, often mentioned much more 'proactive' spells in his footnotes, by the guise of warning the readers to stay away from them. Needles to say, Harry had spent a lot of time peering at the tiny footnotes, trying to decipher vague instructions for the illegal spells mentioned there.
Satisfied with his book of choice, Harry left the library and headed for his other tent. He was eager to try out his new wand in a real practice.
If I concentrate hard enough, I may even learn 4-5 new spells before dinner, he mused as he left the tent.
"Ok, what the fuck is going on here?" Harry asked no one in particular, as he completely mastered his tenth spell in two hours. Blue phoenix sitting on one of the workout machines thrilled indignantly, as if to say, "How the hell should I know?"
Harry just shook his head, and once again tried out all the new spells he had learned. Yes, they all worked perfectly. There is definitely something weird going on here, he mused.
Harry had never been sure how powerful he exactly was. In classes, he was mostly average, learning new spells ages after Hermione had already mastered them. But once he'd finally 'crack' a new spell, he was always able to use it flawlessly, better than his smart friend could ever dream of. As much as Hermione was smart and quick on the uptake, Harry was pretty certain she would never be able to summon something from half a mile or chase a hundred Dementors away.
That's why this level of efficiency came as a big shock to Harry. It was always Hermione who was good at learning, and me who was good in practice. So, what has changed?
Harry briefly considered it was just his magic growing stronger, but he quickly ruled that theory out. His spells didn't seem more powerful than before; It was just easier for him to master them. He cast his mind back, trying to think of some similar incident from his past. He quickly realized that this strange improvement had first manifested itself this morning, when he managed to cast Sententia Impartio spell in his first try.
Which means that something must have changed yesterday..., Harry reasoned. And it could only be the phoenix, Anarchia, or... Harry looked at the wand in his hand and his eyes widen in wonderment. Could it be?
At first, Harry quickly discarded this solution, since it seemed that his power level had remained about the same. He was certain that he would have noticed the power increase in his spell-work, if his new wand was more compatible than the old one. But now that he thought about it, it seemed rather strange that the phoenixes had decided to show up just as he was holding his new wand for the first time.
Furthermore, learning magic with his new wand felt... different; Instead of being jittery and unresponsive, as it was normal when practicing new spells, the magic seemed to flow smoothly through his wand, even on the first try. It just wasn't... natural.
Could it... But no, it couldn't be a power-block. Even Dumbledore isn't strong enough to push something as powerful as Patronus through magical suppressors, he shook his head in puzzlement.
Seeing that pure logic was getting him nowhere, Harry decided that an experiment might give him some better insight into this phenomenon.
He retrieved his old wand from leg holster and approached the only undamaged cupboard in the centre of the hall. From there, he retrieved a 15 inches tall test-tube, with pale-blue liquid in it. He then expertly immersed his wand in it and patiently waited 30 seconds for Kalinga's blocking solution to do its job.
While planning his escape and consequent summer training, Harry's first idea was to have all the tracking charms permanently removed from his wand. Thankfully, his newfound Slytherin side kicked in, making him realize how stupid that would have been. Yes, it might have worked well during the summer break, but he would have gotten himself into heaps of trouble once the school year started. Even in all their incompetence, Ministry would have surely started an inquiry when their trackers failed to detecting any magic being cast by the famous Boy-Who-Lived, while he was supposedly studying magic at Hogwarts. And Harry definitely wasn't interested in giving Fudge more ammunition to use against him. The last thing he needed was a repeat of the last year's court drama.
Therefore, instead of doing something he couldn't restore later on, Harry decided to use one of the many blocking solutions available for purchase in Knockturn Alley. They would temporarily block any notification charms attached to the wand, including those that the government places on all the wands they license for sale. Of course, being the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry fully expected his wand to carry several more illegal trackers, placed there by various parties interested in his progress; Both Dumbledore and Voldemort included.
Let them think what they want, Harry had decided, leaving the illegal tracers intact. They're in for a hell of a surprise when I start using spells they never expected me to know. The best advantage is using the enemy's advantage against them. Or in other words, he would use his old wand in classes and perform any extra-curricular activity with the new one, which will remain his secret. It was a simple plan really, but effective nonetheless.
Slight fizzing noise coming from the tube notified Harry that tracker-blocks were in place. He now had six hours of unmonitored wand-usage, before the potion evaporated from the wood.
Now to find my test subject, Harry mused, as he opened the spell-book he was working on that day. Ahh, here's a good one, he nodded to himself as he found a moderately easy spell, perfect for his experiment.
• • • • •
Circumspector deprehensio
Standard power req. - 280spu
Maximal range - 10 m
Casting speed - medium to slow
Travelling speed - slow
Colour - light blue
Duration - 2 hr x (executed power / 280spu)
Effect range - from 100 m to 10,000
m (determined by wand movement)
Mind-link range - up to 1km
Ministry disclaimer - Non-restricted for usage on oneself. Requires Ministry's written permission for usage on one's own inanimate objects, by the act 1931-42, section 2C. Restricted to unauthorized personal for usage on other beings or creatures, by the act 1793-73 section 6A.
o - Origin:
It is widely believed this spell had been crafted by one Jacopo Cattaneo, a little-known Roman wizard from the late 14th century. Jacopo was apparently suffering from a severe case of schizophrenia, resulting in him development a variety of paranoid delusions and conspiracy theories. He had crafted this spell in order to prove to his mind-healers that he was truly being harassed by what he described as "little grey man from Mars, who are - in coalition with Vatican - trying to cover up the truth that the Earth is in fact round". Even though he had successfully completed the spell, he never had the chance to use it, since he was found dead only days later, stabbed and beaten to death with various kitchen and cleaning utensils. The culprits were never found.
o - Effect:
The spell detects any kind of lens focused upon the affected object and sends the caster a vague feeling of a direction where the source is located at (by means of a temporary mind-link). The kind of lenses it is primarily designed to detect is an eye (human, or of any other decently developed species), although it can be used to detect omnioculars, muggle binoculars or other artificial lenses. Target object is usually the caster himself, although the spell is sometimes used as a protection measure for vaults or stored valuables (using runic version).
o - Casting:
Part 1:
Flick left and right to start the flow. Say "Circumspector," with circular wand motion. This is the time to push for additional power (Note: increase the number of revolutions or their diameter to compensate).
Part 2:
Say "deprehensio," while determining the range. To set the range from 100 to 1000 meters, start with horizontal double-flick. Otherwise, the base is set to ten. Proceed with vertical double-flicks (from 1 to 10), to specify the number of tens or hundreds. (Example: H-D-F followed by 4 V-D-F means 400 m; Only 4 V-D-F means 40 m)
Part 3:
Point and release with the last syllable. Envision the target in its entirety.
o - Underclaw's tips:
Always have the spell on your person when appearing in public. Release only when in centre of attention (it can get a bit confusing). In closed space, set perimeter to 30 m, on open spaces prudent value is at least 500 m. Never let on that you feel the watcher by staring in his direction. If you are being followed, hide behind some corner and reverse the situation on your pursuers. If you're persecuted by muggles, the spell can be used to detect snipers (long-range killing wands). Never rely solely on this spell, since it can be fooled by a variety of muggle and magical means.
• • • • •
Having memorized the instructions, Harry took out his old wand and started trying out the spell. After many unsuccessful tries, the old feeling of frustration started coming back to him. He was certain he was doing everything right, but the magic simply wasn't working. After the ease with which magic flowed through his new wand, this one seemed like a useless piece of dead wood.
Frowning, Harry took his new wand and did the proper incantation and movements. He felt an immediate trickle, but a skewed last flick ruined it. On the second try, a weak blue light fizzled from the tip, but quickly died out. On the third attempt, the spell finally worked correctly. With another 5-6 minutes of practice, the spell was completely mastered. Harry was able to perform it in any variation of parameters, without having to concentrate exclusively on casting it.
He then took his old wand again, and performed the casting with already practiced ease. Nothing happened.
Now, this is definitely weird, Harry thought, as he raised an eyebrow at his malfunctioning wand. Just for the experiment's sake, he started casting the spell repeatedly as fast as he could, not paying attention to the complete lack of results. After several more tries, he has gotten his first results - a distorted flicker of magic. He repeated the spell flawlessly, which resulted only in another distorted spasm of magic that levitated Underclaw's book two feet in the air.
Harry suddenly realized that, if he wasn't absolutely certain he was doing everything correctly, he would have already lost his patience and attempted several alternate approaches. He vaguely recalled countless lessons he had spent doing exactly that - skewing his wand movement and pronunciation in an attempt to correct the 'flaws' in his casting technique.
Interesting, Harry murmured and kept practicing, resulting in smaller and smaller distortions with each new try. At this stage back at Hogwarts, he would have usually gotten all elated, thinking he was finally getting a hang of the spell. After ten more minutes of fast casting, he finally managed to perform the spell perfectly. With a touch of pride, he noted that his wand hand was only slightly tired after all that waving. I guess the arm-muscle training regime is working, he mused.
Harry recast the spell again with his old wand, and then again with the new one. There was no visible difference. They both felt exactly the same and produced the same power output. If he hadn't just performed this experiment, he would have sworn that both wands were perfectly matched for him. But now, he knew better than that. He realized that his old wand had definitely been tempered with, probably even before his Hogwarts days. And he had a pretty good idea by whom.
There was only one man who knew the whole Prophecy, including the part about Harry and the Dark Lord being 'equals'. There was only one man able to connect the dots and make an educated guess that this part would probably translate to twin wands as well. There was only one man who could have borrowed Voldemort's brother wand from Ollivander's, on grounds of the wand's core material being supplied by his familiar. There was only one man who had access to the Privet Drive prior to Harry's first year, thus having the ability to sneak in and test Harry's compatibility with the borrowed wand. And at last, there was only one man smart and powerful enough to create such restraints on a wand, that would limit the owner's spell learning speed, but not their power.
"Dumbledore," Harry hissed furiously, flashing his aura around him. The Phoenix gave a startled yelp and flew away from pissed off wizard.
That bastard purposely limited my learning ability! I needlessly spent countless hours trying out spells over and over again, while I could have getting ready for the fight against Voldemort, Harry thought angrily.
Thinking about a way to confirm this theory, he had a sudden brainstorm. Image of a page from the book he'd been reading earlier that day flashed before his eyes and he instantly knew what to do.
Harry took both his wands and rushed to the tavern room. He grabbed Anarchia and opened it to the index page, quickly getting over the mandatory security test. Just for curiosity's sake, he tried casting 'Sententia Impartio' with his tampered wand. He wasn't at all surprised when the spell failed.
Using his new wand, Harry once again made an inquiry about the author 'Christmas Stockings'. After spending several minutes listing through the long index, he finally found what he was looking for. It was Dumbledore's very last article about pure magical theory, from the middle of 1988. The title was 'Spell familiarity wards for magical foci'. Not very eye-catchy, but Dumbledore probably didn't like the idea of too many curious people getting a glimpse of his precious knowledge.
Anarchia probably had to wrench words out of his mouth... well, quill, Harry mused as he tapped the title and waited for the correct page to show.
After reading the article, Harry slowly closed the book and lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He only had one thought on his mind. The man is a genius... Evil perverted sick old meddling fucking bastard of a genius, but genius nonetheless.
Harry felt his respect for Dumbledore's intellect growing, while his respect for the man behind it pummelling even further. He actually wasn't sure whether to be offended or flattered by the fact that the undoubtedly great wizard had apparently invented a completely new type of magical block, for the sole purpose of screwing up with his life. The magical ward he had crafted was simply a masterpiece of both intellect and deviousness. Unlike the ordinary power suppression wards - which are easily detected by the power output lower than expected - Dumbledore's familiarity ward don't affect the power at all. The only thing it does is disrupt magical flow for each new spell independently, until the spell is cast an appropriate amount of times. The old goat even managed to make the blocking time interactive, depending on the difficulty of the spell and the caster's prowess. So, instead of having an obviously powerful student not being able to cast powerful spells, which is a dead giveaway, Dumbledore's wards would make said student seem simply too lazy or stupid to properly concentrate on their studies.
Harry clenched his teeth in anger, as he recalled Hermione's endless lectures about his abyssal learning capacity. It's no wonder my initial desire to prove myself in a new environment was quickly forgotten once the classes started, Harry mused. Even the Sorting Hat saw where I belonged, but I was too damn distracted by having friends for the first time and being too afraid of losing them. Not to mention being fed all the anti-Slytherin propaganda prior to my sorting.
In retrospect, Harry realized that conveniently befriending Ron on the platform, getting sorted into Gryffindor and scoring below average grades in all his classes were fundamental in quenching his initial ambitions to learn and prosper. Instead, he became content with wasting his abilities at solving silly little mysteries Dumbledore had been expertly planting for him, and slacking around with Ron for hours at end. After all, if he ever needed some information or help, he had Hermione and Dumbledore at his side, right? Why would he go through hours of frustrating repetition, only to learn something he could easily get one of his faithful allies to do for him? After all, it was Gryffindor and Slytherin the Hat had been torn between; Ravenclaw was never even taken in consideration - and rightly so.
For this situation, Harry didn't blame his friends in the slightest. They were simply being themselves, for better or for worse. On the contrary, Harry was putting this entire blame on himself, and for once, rightly so. He was especially furious for not seeing through Dumbledore's game earlier. If he had only figured this out a few years ago, than Voldemort may not have returned and Cedric may not have died and Sirius...
No, Harry mentally slapped himself. What is done is done. I can't change that. What I CAN do is change the way I'm acting now. So, instead of bitching about how screwed I am, how about I do something about it?
With that mental kick in the arse, Harry put Anarchia away and threw himself back into his studies with renewed vigour.
Déjà vu.
That was what Dumbledore felt as he waited for the Order members to take their seats in the meeting room of the Moody's cottage. All thirty or so of his subordinates were currently standing in small groups around the long table and chatting about their last 24 hours spent in a hectic search for clues about Harry Potter's disappearance.
Even the Weasley kids were in the room, trying to overhear some scarp of info about their wayward friend. Ginny was hyperactively running from group to group, asking them questions in quick succession. Each time irritated wizards shooed her away, she immediately sought out her next victim, eager to continue her barrage of questions. Ron, on the other hand, was moving slyly through the room, never interrupting conversations but discretely eavesdropping and filing in everything that was said. His eyes would glaze over from time to time, like he was having some internal debate, but he would quickly snap out of it and go back to the information gathering.
Dumbledore pursed his lips thoughtfully at this strange behaviour. It was apparent that the boy was having much more success than Ginny with her annoying bubbly attitude.
Wasn't Ronald Weasley the epitome of Gryffindor? The tactic he is using now is something a Slytherin would do, he mused. Ah well, I shouldn't underestimate people just because they are from the house of brave and foolish.
He brushed this aside and redirected his attention at what was really bothering him at the moment and that was the conduct of his minions.
Why does everyone feel the need to discuss their findings before the meeting has even started? Dumbledore grumbled mentally. He never liked being left out and that was exactly how he was feeling right now. Not to mention that this exchange would ruin all the nasty surprises that would certainly be revealed, thus depriving Albus of seeing the group's comical reactions and arguments. That would not do, he decided firmly.
"Now, now, settle down friends, it's time to start the meeting," Albus said, flashing his aura a bit to gain attention.
As the Order members started taking their seats, Molly turned towards her children. "Ron, Ginny, off to your rooms."
"But mum, how come we were allowed in yesterday and not today?" whined Ginny. Ron stayed silent, having one more of his internal debates.
"No buts, young lady. I think we've agreed that yesterday was an exception; One-time deal. Now, off you go, you too Ronald," she said sternly.
"But muuum..." Ginny's best pout was interrupted by Ron. "Ok mum. Let's go, Ginny," he said and went for the door, dragging his sister along.
"Traitor," she said through clenched teeth, but one glare from her mother made her comply.
Albus vaguely heard Ronald bargaining with his sister about telling her what he had found out in exchange for her doing some of his chores, before Tonks closed the door and stumbled to her seat. With a shake of his head, Albus shrugged this incident off, before finally opening the meeting.
"We have gathered here to share our first findings about Harry Potter's disappearance. Now, without further ado, why don't we start with what little clues we've already had. Severus?"
Snape emerged from the corner and straightened himself self-importantly at the other end of the table. He, along with Moody, would always rather loom from above, instead of sitting down with the rest of the 'commoners'. He gave the whole table his famous death-glare, instantly capturing their attention.
Oh, he's good, acknowledged Dumbledore, already categorizing the ways Snape could improve his performance. If Snape was a master of appearance, Dumbledore was nothing less than a grandmaster.
"During our search of Potter's premises, we have found vials of commercial-grade Polyjuice potion. My primary task yesterday was to inquire about the origins of these vials and extract as much information about Potter's activities as possible. Naturally, I was successful," Snape said self-importantly. That caused a few smiles but they were quickly silenced by death glares targeted at the culprits. "The potion brewer that sold the vials is Lester Gardner, potion master candidate and the owner of an apothecary in the Knockturn Alley district."
Snape paused dramatically and smirked at the ensued gasps and whispers along the table. He couldn't help but feel amused at seeing some people's reactions at conformation that their hero had indeed visited the ill-reputed hub of dark wizard activities.
Pitiful, he sneered. And these are supposed to be the best wizards that Light has to offer. I can't believe some of them are still deluded by children tales about the dark and evil Knockturn Alley, where their parents would send them if they misbehave. It's just a lower class neighbourhood, for crying out loud.
Albus, on the other end of the table, was having his own thoughts about this reaction. Even though his face was a grave mask, those few who knew him well could have spotted vague traces of approval and even satisfaction on his face. Commoners' believing in existence of good and evil is always a good trend, and should be constantly reinforced by demonizing or idolizing certain symbols, places or people. Knockturn Alley is a symbol. So is Harry. Mix those two together... Hmm, this incident could go a long way towards convincing the Order that Harry had turned dark. I just hope I'll never be forced to play that card, he analyzed coldly.
Snapping himself from his musings, Albus cleared his thought and flashed his aura a bit, making Order members quiet down. "Please continue, Severus," he said pleasantly.
Snape curtly nodded. "As I was saying, Potter had visited Gardner the very next day after his... desertion and requested 50 vials of the Polyjuice. After providing Potter with the potions, the brat offered Gardner 50 galleons for performing two spells for him." There were few whistles from some members. Molly seemed especially stricken that Harry would waste so much money on some dark wizard lowlife. Snape chose to ignore the commotion and went on. "Naturally, Gardner readily accepted. He was first told to transfer the tracking spells from the brat and onto the potion vials, and then to shrink the whole package, so it could be carried in one's pocket. Potter paid him, with a bonus for keeping quiet about his visit, and then left. Gardner never saw him again," finished Snape matter-of-factly.
"Err... excuse me," asked one of the newer Order members, waving her hand like a schoolgirl. She was an ex-Gryffindor that had just found a job as a secretary in the Magical Transportation department.
Albus smiled at her and said, "Yes, Anexia?" Anexia Meyers was useless in combat, but her position in the Transport department made acquiring portkeys and secure floo connections much easier than it normally would be. She had a way of insuring that all Order-related paperwork miraculously get transported at top of the pile and proceed smoothly through the bureaucratic machine. She was also keeping an eye on the strong ministry supporters and potential Death Eaters inside her department and all of its subdivisions. A very useful pawn indeed, when applied properly.
"Well, sir... err, what tracking spells?" Anexia asked timidly. She didn't seem like much between two of her school authority figures, but when given some administrative assignment, she would always come through in the end.
Snape started to reply with an evil glint in his eye, but Dumbledore was faster. "Ah, yes, the tracking spell. You see, we've had a tracer placed on Harry during the summer. The idea was to be able to find him in case he was kidnapped by the Death Eaters. Alas, it seems that Harry had decided to have it removed, which only puts him in even graver danger. Anything could happen to him now and we would never know."
Albus knew that he had to change the subject quickly. Placing tracking charms on people was highly illegal, without a court order or the target's explicit permission. He intentionally phrased his answer so that it seemed like Harry had willingly accepted the placement of the charm, without actually saying so directly; Just a small trick from his repertoire. Of course, Harry had no idea about the tracer, seeing how it has been in place ever since his parents' demise, 15 years ago. It wouldn't be wise for too many people to know that, though. "Ah, Severus, you have anything else to add?"
Severs knew what Albus was doing and nodded slightly to his second master. They had discussed this prior to the meeting and decided on what information would be shared with the grunts. "Yes Albus. The Dark Lord summoned me earlier today. Apparently, someone had been spying on the Privet Drive yesterday, and witnessed the werewolf exposing Potter's deceit. It seems that the Dark Lord is now aware of the boy's disappearance."
The room immediately exploded with voices. Some people were yelling about treachery, accusing Snape, Dung or Remus of leaking the information. The others were requesting that they intensify the search, now that the Death Eaters were actively seeking their charge as well. Moody was yelling that he had warned them about constant vigilance, but nobody ever listens to him. A few people told him to shut up. Some members were requesting that they bring in the Ministry, while others were arguing against it. Many were just putting their two cents in, without actually saying anything relevant. Twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes said that this was exactly the kind of reaction he had hoped for.
Albus was well aware that Snape's revelation was only half-accurate at best. According to the spy's private report before the meeting, the Dark Lord had in fact purchased this information from one of the underground rumour peddlers.
Not long after that disturbing find, Albus had received a firecall from Cornelius Fudge, who was in a state of panic over the same information the Dark Lord had received. Thankfully, after some careful manoeuvring, Fudge became convinced that Harry's 'alleged' disappearance was nothing but Dumbledore's weak attempt at trying to discredit him. Albus was then forced to endure five minutes long rant, where the Minister rudely explained to him how he wasn't a malleable fool that can be easy manipulated. It took several humble admissions and two sincere apologies before Fudge finally ended the call, satisfied with how he had outsmarted Dumbledore and saw right through his schemes. Only once the fool was finally dealt with, did Albus sit down and start analyzing the situation in the earnest.
From Snape's report and Fudge's subsequent firecall, Dumbledore quickly summarized that someone from the Order itself had leaked the information. That's why he instructed Snape to give the Order an abridged version of his report, hiding from them Voldemort's true source. While Snape was making his revelation, Albus was carefully inspecting his minions, trying to spot any sign of a treachery. Having found none, he concluded that either the spy was skilled with the mind arts, or there was no spy at all. The Dark Lord could have truly discovered the news by himself and then leaked it to Fudge, in hope of unsettling Albus with doubts about his men. Either way, Albus would have to stay wary of the Order and conceal more information than usual, at least until this situation is settled one way or the other. If spotted, this behaviour could very well cause discontent within his ranks, maybe even damage his minions' loyalty.
Damn you Tom, that was a crafty move, Albus cursed mentally, before standing up and ending the chaos in the room. When everyone was quiet once again, he redirected his attention back to Snape. "Severus, have you got anything else to add?"
"Yes. I would only like to emphasize that, according to the potion brewers I encountered, the stupid boy haven't even tried to purchase any kind of solution for blocking the wand trackers. Considering the fact that none of Dung's colourful contacts mentioned dealing with Potter either, as far as I'm aware of..." Snape paused and turned towards Dung with a raised eyebrow, awaiting his confirmation.
Mundungus flinched under the stare and stumbled out, "Ah, yes, no sign of the boy anywhere."
Snape sneered at the old scoundrel and continued. "Precisely. Then, it's safe to assume that the idiotic brat didn't think of buying a replacement wand either. I believe that at least some of you would be able to see relevance of this fact and draw your own conclusions."
The first one to speak was Kingsley. "Potter is unarmed," he said simply.
"Now wait a second," said Amos Diggory. "The boy still has his wand, right?"
"Yes, but after the last year's episode with underage magic, he'll be extremely reluctant to use it, even in a life or death situation," replied Kingsley. "And in combat, weapon you are reluctant to use is not much of a weapon at all." Mad-Eye nodded grimly in confirmation.
Many wizards started whispering worriedly, while the others were angrily arguing with Snape, who was gleefully preaching about the stupidity of Gryffindors and especially their poster boy. No one noticed a brief flicker of smugness on Albus' face, before it melted away into a worried grimace.
These are good news, indeed, he thought. Harry was probably so intent on escaping, that he didn't even consider trying to learn anything new or practice magic on his own. Bless Gryffindors and their single-track minds.
Aloud, Albus said, "Thank you Severus, these are grave news indeed. This puts even more emphasis on the danger Harry is in and increases our urgency of finding him. Now, did anyone else found any other traces of Harry?"
Many Order members shook their head or replied in negative. However, Albus noticed that Jones and Vance were exchanging some hushed words. A moment later, Hestia cleared her throat and spoke up. "Emmeline and I have some clues about Harry's whereabouts."
"Please continue," said Albus pleasantly in a dead quiet room.
"You go first," said Emmeline to Hestia, who nodded.
Hestia Jones was a young, half-blood witch, whose family owned a small Magical Appliances store in the Diagon Alley. She had been assigned a task of checking out other merchants in the Alley for sightings of Harry Potter. Dumbledore's reasoning was that the storeowners would prefer to share their observations with one of their own colleagues, rather than with some random stranger. His assumptions were proven correct.
"Well, as you know, my area of research was Diagon Alley's storeowners. At first, it all seemed futile - none of the prominent storeowners had seen Harry for years. But then, when I moved my search to the more obscure business, I hit gold with the 'Kontiki Tours' travel agency."
For once, Dumbledore immediately stopped the ensued whispering. This couldn't be good, he mused, feeling anxious for the first time that night. "Please continue, Hestia," he said to the young witch, who blushed even further at all the attention she was receiving.
"Well, Mr. Webster, the owner of the agency, said that Harry had indeed visited him, from what I gathered, two days after his... departure. He said that Harry had been asking around about travel arrangements to other countries. He had been planning to book a portkey to one of the tourist locations, until Mr. Webster informed him that he would need to bring his guardians along, so they could give their permission in person. Harry had shown him his guardian permits and then he even tried to bribe him, but Mr. Webster stayed adamant not to break the law. Seeing that he could achieve nothing, Harry decided to leave and try with some other agency."
"So what's the point of this whole episode, except for once again proving Potter's idiocy and his blatant disregard for the rules?" interrupted Snape.
"I was just getting to that," replied flushed Hestia. "As I said, Harry was just about to leave, when he spotted a flyer on the counter of the store. It was advertising a sale of fake muggle documentation."
"Oh dear," said Mr. Weasley.
"Exactly," said Hestia. "Harry immediately asked whether he could purchase a complete set of enchanted muggle documents, including a passport. Mr. Webster had to check up a few law books, but everything seemed perfectly legal. It turned out that, unlike portkeys, which are regulated by guardian permits for unrestricted travel, obtaining documentation is classified under 'administrative dealings', thus placed under much milder restrictions." After making sure everyone understood the thin but important distinction, she took a breath and went on. "In the end, Harry purchased a complete set of false documentation, claiming he was 18, thus making him legible to travel unsupervised anywhere in the muggle world. After paying Mr. Webster a little extra to keep quiet about the transaction, he left, presumably to make arrangements for his trip in a muggle travel agency. The storeowner claims he hasn't seen him sense," Hestia finished her story and sat down.
Emmeline Vance interrupted the rising discussions by clearing her throat. "I believe this is where I step in," she said in her characteristic uptight tone. Even though she was a Muggleborn, her posture could easily put any Pureblood aristocrat to shame - a clearly visible product of her upbringing amongst the muggle high society. After graduation, she gladly took her place in her family company's hierarchy, orchestrating its expansion into parts of the Magical world. Everyone knew that her involvement in the Order was largely so that she could monitor the threat that Pureblood extremists posed to her business interests within the Britain's magical enclaves. Still, she gave as much as she took. Her standing and influence made her the Order's primary liaison for any dealings within the muggle world.
"Thanks to my unique position, I was assigned a task of organizing a search effort for Mr. Potter outside of magical communities. I was just having a meeting with several private investigators, when I received an owl from Hestia, informing me of her findings. After Oblivating the detectives, I immediately sent them out to check all the Customs databases for a record of Harry Potter leaving the country. Here is what they've found," she said in a crisp voice while retrieving a piece of paper from her muggle purse. She then duplicated the paper several dozen times and passed the copies to her Order colleagues around the table. Muggleborns immediately recognized a computer printout, while most of the Purebloods stared at the neat script with confusion, interest or even disdain. Of course, Mr. Weasley was bouncing in his seat with unanswered questions, but one glare from his wife insured that he kept his mouth shut.
"As you can see in the header, this printout is the passenger list of the flight 1724, London to Melbourne, from June 24th 1996. Now, if you would kindly direct your attention to seat number 73..."
"Potter," Snape sneered, his natural disgust for the boy intensified by having to hold a filthy muggle artefact.
"Precisely," said Vance smugly and leaned back in her chair, satisfied with her work.
"Excellent, my dear, truly remarkable," said Dumbledore brightly, while curiously inspecting the muggle paper through his half-moon glasses. With some amusement, he noted that several of his most devoted followers tried to duplicate his actions, intently glaring at their copies of the printout and nodding to themselves thoughtfully, as if seeing the same hidden meaning that their great leader had spotted.
Covering his snort with a slight cough, Dumbledore brought the attention back to himself. "It seems that we'll have to redirect our search to Australia. But before we discuss that, is there any other reports? Anyone? Anything at all?"
Cruciatus was far from the only way of demonstrating one's displeasure with their minions. Albus gave each of the Order members a piercing stare, making them squirm uncomfortably in their seats. As his disappointed eyes dismissed them one by one, he noted the chastised wizards sagging in relief and then narrowing their eyes in determination, promising to themselves they'd do better next time. Yes, respect and loyalty were delicate substitutes for fear and blackmail, but if applied correctly, they were a thousand times more powerful.
"Very well," Dumbledore sighed after finishing his round. "Now, before we decide our course of actions, I'm due to share my own findings with you." He paused for the effect and then went on. "The first issue I would like to address are the original ten vials of Polyjuice that Harry had given to the Dursleys prior to his departure from Privet Drive. Now, Severus' first estimate was that the potion was student's work, most likely brewed by Hermione Granger, Harry's friend. I must say that only half of that statement has turned out to be correct."
Snape sneered at that comment, but remained silent. "You see, Mrs. Granger is currently on a vacation in Spain with her parents. A lovely country that, I must say. Why, I remember when me and my brother-"
At McGonagall's well-practiced clearing of throat, Albus made a well-practiced chastised face and went back to his speech. "Ah yes. Well, as I was saying, Mrs. Granger and her family are out of the country at the moment. Thankfully, prior to her departure, she had agreed to take with her an amulet charmed to act as an apparation beacon. Yesterday night, I apparated to her location and questioned her about Harry's recent behaviour and her role in the brewing of Polyjuice potion. And while she admitted some practical experience with that particular line of potions," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled brightly at Snape's venomous sneer, "she categorically denied helping Harry brew Polyjuice anytime in the... recent history. Thus, the only logical conclusion is that Harry had received help from some other student or that he had brewed the potion himself."
"Preposterous," snapped Snape. "That stupid boy has neither the discipline nor the knowledge needed to brew a mixture of that complexity. He must have had one of his loyal fans make it for him. That's the only thing your Golden Boy can do - use his fame to break rules and seek even more glory."
"That's enough Severus," Dumbledore said sternly amidst the protests of Harry's supporters. Still, his eyes kept twinkling with good humour. Unlike Snape, Albus was more inclined towards the other explanation, well aware of Harry's diligent work on his potion brewing skills.
Oh, how much fun it would be if I were to disclose that Harry had received 'Outstanding' on his Potions O.W.L., Albus thought amusedly. But no, he reprimanded himself immediately, I need to create an image of Harry the lost-little-boy, not Harry the good-student-who-can-take-care-of-himself. I don't need people questioning the need to put every resource available into finding the boy.
Aloud, Albus said, "We shall have a definite answer to that question once we locate Harry and bring him in. Until then, I don't see the need for prolonging this line of enquiry any further." He waited a few seconds for the last arguments to die down and then moved on.
"My second point tonight is about Harry's finances. As you are probably aware of, by being Harry's magical advisor, I've had a duty of acting as an overseer of his hereditary accounts. Unfortunately, Harry saw fit to remove me from this position, as well as replace Slimepick, the goblin in charge of his family's accounts. He was also prudent enough to give quite a generous donation to Slimepick's supervisor, ensuring his department's silence regarding these replacements. That's the actual reason why I hadn't been notified about any of these changes prior to my visit yesterday evening."
"And the official explanation? Let me guess. Misplaced memo? Spontaneous combustion of the mail parchment?" asked Bill Weasley, the Order's referent for goblin issues.
"Not this time, Billius. Apparently, some of the inhibition charms on the female owl carrying the notices failed, while she happened to be in the mating season," Dumbledore corrected him with an amused twinkle in his eyes. Even when giving excuses for breaking the rules, Goblins were known to make it crystal clear exactly who made the rules in the first place and how much they are worth. Usually in hard currency.
When the chuckling died down, Albus went on. "In all seriousness, this development is very unfortunate for us, since I'm certain that Slimepick could have been... persuaded to give us a hint or two about Harry's spending. Something that his replacement was most reluctant to do."
"Oh come on Headmaster," interrupted Bill. "I'm positive that any account manager could be easily bribed into giving at least some information about the accounts he's in charge of. Amongst goblins, being corrupted is almost a mandatory prerequirement for that position. What manager we are speaking of here?"
"Griphook," replied Dumbledore, his eyes shining with amusement.
"Oh... Griphook..." murmured Bill. "I'm not sure I've ever heard of that goblin before, and I know almost all the account managers Gringotts has. Is he new at the job?"
Dumbledore's twinkle went into overdrive. "Yes, you could certainly say that," he said amusedly, before giving in and providing an explanation. "You see, when level five accounts director Clubtooth asked Harry which account manager he would prefer in place of Slimepick, Harry immediately said the name 'Griphook'. When Clubtooth informed him that Gringotts had no account manager under that name, Harry elaborated that this Griphook was in fact the goblin that had taken him to a cart ride, during his very first visit to Gringotts."
That revelation caused quite a commotion. "Goblin that took him to a... a cart ride?" asked Bill incredulously. "But... But then this Griphook must be just a grunt... a... a clerk. He wouldn't know the first thing about managing an account."
"I am quite certain that Clubtooth's reaction was not unlike your own, Billius," replied Dumbledore amusedly. "Nevertheless, Harry was adamant to hire that particular goblin, refusing to even consider any other. Thus, Griphook was promptly summoned and informed of his new prestigious job. After giving the goblin some time to recover, Harry instructed Griphook that he is to immediately enrol in the Gringotts' school for management, on the Potter family's expense. Apparently, Harry gave the young goblin one year to become an accomplished account manager."
Snape snorted and shook his head. "Preposterous. No sane wizard had ever done something as stupid as that. That boy is even more idiotic that I thought. He will ruin all that generations of his ancestors had struggled to accomplish." Snape stretched himself in self-satisfied manner. "And I'll be there to see it happen," he finished smugly.
"I'm not so sure about that, Severus," replied Dumbledore. "Harry's account is governed by a... certain inheritance law," Dumbledore briefly glanced at Arthur Weasley, who shifted uncomfortably, "that forbids active management of the old families' accounts, before the family's head reaches their maturity. So, until Harry's seventeenth birthday, there's not much that Griphook can actually do, except make some limited low-risk investments and convert riches into gems or real-estate and back. Furthermore, Harry absolutely forbid Griphook to disclose any privileged information about his finances, on penalty of firing him. Now, most account managers wouldn't even acknowledge that threat, since Gringotts would simply reallocate them to some other account if they got sacked. Griphook, on the other hand, would be back to his old job of a cart driver. As you can imagine, that made him into one tight-lipped goblin and Harry's devoted follower," Dumbledore finished his explanation with some humour. "So, you see Severus, that particular move was actually quite brilliant in this situation. I only wonder whether that was a stroke of luck, or did Harry know exactly what he was doing," Albus finished thoughtfully.
Snape sneered and started to say something, but Dumbledore beat him to it. "Yes, Severus, we're all aware of what your opinion on that matter would be," he said, smiling slightly. Snape bristled, bit his tongue and retreated to his corner, amidst chuckling of the Order members.
"To conclude, Harry's finances are hidden from us at the moment and they're bound to remain that way in the foreseeable future," Dumbledore said, stopping the commotion. If there's one thing Snape hated the most, it was laughter at his expanse.
"And now, the final and most important point tonight - guardian permits. We spoke of them before, but it would be prudent to elaborate further, considering that many of you hadn't even heard of them before tonight." Albus stopped for a moment, creating a small pause that captured the attention of everyone present.
"As you are already aware of, Harry has had his guardians sign so called 'muggle guardian permits'. These legal documents are used to take away some of the privileges from a child's magical advisor - which is yours truly in this case - and give them to the child in question. As you may suspect, Harry had taken all the privileges he was able to, including the full control over his finances, freedom of movement, unrestricted correspondence and more. Shortly, he had removed almost all of our legal authority over him. I have tried to intervene at the Ministry, but Harry had already filed in the paperwork, so there was really nothing I could do."
"Couldn't we just make the Dursleys cancel the permits?" asked one of the Aurors present.
"No, I'm afraid not. I looked into it and found a rather interesting set of circumstances surrounding the law about these permits. Apparently, there used to be a clause that allowed muggle guardians to cancel all issued permits by personally filing in a request at the Ministry. But then, some two hundred years ago, that stipulation was suddenly cancelled. You see, it seems that the Minister at the time was... shall we say, of disputable open-mindness."
"You men, he was a pureblooded supremacist git," piped in Tonks.
Dumbledore nodded approvingly, his eyes twinkling. "That's another way to say it. Well as the story goes, the Minister was one day walking down the corridor, when he accidentally bumped into a pair of muggles, who had gotten lost inside the building. The exact circumstances of that encounter weren't recorded, but whatever happened back then, it made the Minister so furious, that he immediately summoned his legal advisor and instructed him to change all the laws that allowed muggles access to the Ministry, in any capacity whatsoever."
"Oh dear. Don't tell me. They just removed the clause about muggles cancelling the permits personally, without adding any other alternative," piped in Mr. Weasley, who was considered for the Order's primary ear inside the Ministry.
"Exactly, Arthur. Unfortunately, it seems that this whole 'Muggle permits' privilege is so rarely used nowadays, that no one even noticed that loophole in the law... until now that is."
"So, let me get this straight," interrupted Moody's gruff voice. "Once the permits are filed in, there is no legal way to cancel them, because of some arsehole colliding with a muggle two hundred years ago."
Dumbledore's twinkle went into overdrive. "That about sums it up," he said cheerfully.
"Amazing saint Potter, once again saved by luck," sneered Snape.
Some people gave him disapproving looks, but most ignored him. Molly asked fearfully, "Albus, what we're going to do? You know how impulsive Harry is. He will get himself killed and there is no way we can help him."
Bless, you Molly, just the introduction I needed, thought Dumbledore. He gently subdued the twinkle and prepared his sad voice. "Molly, I'm afraid that this is one of those situations where the secret nature of our group will come in handy." He lifted his eyes and gave each member a serious, penetrating stare. "The reason why we formed this group in the first place is exactly for situations like this. When the Ministry's tardiness and inefficiency starts to endanger people's lives, it is our duty to step above the law and do what needs to be done, for the greater good."
Many of the people present frowned disapprovingly. They were here to fight Death Eaters without the Ministry's paperwork. Risking jail-time only to catch Dumbledore's escaped pet wasn't high up on their list of priorities.
Albus saw this and decided to sugarcoat the deal a bit further. He completely extinguished his twinkle and gravely looked into the distance, as if inspecting the dark future that would come to pass if his advices aren't followed. "One more time, please allow me to stress how important Harry's safety is to our cause. That dear boy had become an icon of hope in our fight against Voldemort. His deflection of the Killing Curse and consequent continuous defiance against Voldemort is what gives everyone hope that they too will outlast this darkness that's looming above us. His very existence is keeping people's spirits up, by giving them a symbol they can rally behind in their ongoing struggle against Evil." Albus sighed theatrically. "If something were to happen to Harry, I'm afraid that would be utterly devastating for the public morale, and could easily signal the end of our side in this war. Our lives and lives of our children... friends... family..." He was looking pointedly at various Order members who had been disapproving earlier. They shifted nervously at his words. "...are hanging in balance. They depend solely on the skills of a single, untrained 16-year-old boy, who is alone out there, with some of the vilest wizards of the world chasing after him. Harry has been lucky thus far, but eventually, his luck will run out. Voldemort's minions will catch him, torture him and kill him, dooming us all, along with the rest of the world, to a new age of darkness."
At this point Molly Weasley started sobbing in her husband's arms, while some other Order members shifted anxiously in their seats, as if they were itching to run out there and catch that stupid kid, who's trying to get them all killed. Albus smirked inwardly. He knew he almost had them. Now he just had to strike the fatal blow.
He looked downwards shamefully and hunched in his chair tiredly, making one of the most pitiful appearances he had perfected thus far. "I'm afraid that I'll have to suggest that we do whatever needs to be done to protect Harry, regardless of the laws or the boy's personal wishes. I know that some of you don't like the idea of breaking the law, or forcefully taking Harry away, but I implore you all to at least consider my words. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. In this case, both Harry and we will have to endure doing what we don't like - Harry coming back and we bringing him back. But it simply has to be done, for the good of the Light. Today, you choose between a single boy's comfort and the lives of your friends, spouses, children... the future of our entire world. I know you will make the right decision," Albus finished his speech gravely.
"Albus you have to... we have to find him and get him back," Molly sobbed from Arthur's shoulder. "I mean, you know that trouble seems to follow him wherever he goes. He has already nearly gotten killed two of my own babies and Sirius..." A few people close to Harry gave her disapproving looks. "I mean, he is a good boy, don't get me wrong. But he is so headstrong and rash sometimes. We need to keep him safe, from himself. The last thing we need is him to go out on another one of his crazy adventures and once again endanger himself..." Molly paused, biting her tongue. "And those around him," she added quietly.
Albus gave her a nod, followed with a sad smile. That's good. Molly will bring her henpecked husband in, along with a few more Ministry men Arthur had initiated.
"I agree with the Headmaster," said Snape curtly, stepping in from the corner of the room. "That immature brat had once again broken the rules, putting us all in danger. Why are you all still putting up with him, I'll never know. Why, if it was up to me, I..." Dumbledore's pointed look stopped Snape's building rant. He bit his tongue and said through gritted teeth. "...I would put every resource available into finding the boy and keeping him safe," he finished bitterly and retreated into his corner to sulk alone.
Of course, Severus wouldn't mind dragging Harry in, kicking and screaming, but I can't allow him to make this into a personal vendetta. We must capture Harry to protect him, not to punish him, thought Albus.
"I would have to agree with the Headmaster," said McGonagall through pursed lips. "Although it pains me to see one of my student's rights violated, we must do this for his own protection. I would rather have Harry alive and mad at us, then tortured and dead," she nodded in emphasis and sat down stiffly. Many of her ex students nodded along with her.
Ahh, good old Minerva. Her legendary impartiality carries a lot of weight. Good thing I have her eating from the palm of my hand, thought Albus happily.
Figuring that enough arguments were made for his cause, Dumbledore decided to cut the discussion short. No need to risk someone speaking against the proposition, he mused.
"Very well, we seem to have the majority. Is there really the need to put this up for vote?" Albus scanned the room and saw that most of the people were shaking their heads, quietly agreeing with him. Several were just sitting silently and waiting for further instructions, already deeming the matter settled. Only a few law worshipers who knew nothing of Harry's importance seemed less then pleased with the decision, but Albus saw that they would keep quiet and accept their obvious defeat. "Good, than it's settled," he said cheerfully and let some of his twinkle return.
Oh, this was a fine match. Not amongst his best, but surely worthy of remembrance. He will definitely extract this memory later tonight and store it for safekeeping; You never know when you might need a reminder of a brilliant victory to lift up your spirits after a crushing defeat.
Albus had in his pensive, amongst other memories, a collection of crucial moments he had experienced during his long life. He already had more than 300 titbits of situations in which he had given a smart speech, or made a good manoeuvre, or won a duel and generally turned the situation into his favour. This year, Albus had already archived two crucial events. The first one was his duel with Fudge and Dawlish in his office. The second was his duel with Voldemort in the Ministry of Magic and subsequent argument with Harry in his office.
Today's discussion probably won't earn itself a permanent place in the records, but it would definitely stay there long enough for Albus to go over it several times and carefully analyze reactions of the crowd at his every move. He would pay special attention to those displeased with his decision and try to decipher at which point he had lost them. He was a master of manipulation, but even masters can improve their technique.
Snapping away from his happy musings, Albus started directing his men into teams and preparing them to move their search operation over to Australia. He had been hopeful that they would find Harry lodging in one of the taverns here in England, but in retrospect, he should have expected something like this. Young Harry has had a tough life, and in the years to come, it was only going to get tougher. If anyone deserved a break, it was he. Albus was certain that his men would find Harry in a couple of days, sunbathing on some beach in Australia, trying to put all his problems away.
Hmm, not that it's such a bad idea, now that I think about it, he mused. I could easily be persuaded to let Harry stay there for a couple of more days, under our protection, of course. After all, the boy could use a few more days of peace, before putting him back under the spotlight.
Albus thought about this idea further and found it rather agreeable. Yes, I wouldn't lose anything and it could go a long way towards breaching the gap between us¸ he concluded, before shaking his thoughts away and turning back to the practical matters at hand.
I'll think about this when the boy is found out, Albus concluded. No use planning the feast while the prey is still in the forest.
Little did he know at time how correct he was.
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Author notes
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EDIT: This chapter had been edited after the posting of chapter 8. Grammar and writing style were (hopefully) improved a bit, but the plot remained the same.
o - Circumspector deprehensio spell
I've gotten an idea for this spell from an article I've read some time ago. It was about Americans researching a device that could pinpoint snipers by projecting laser beams through its scope... or some other techno-crap like that. I don't know what happened with that, but it's an interesting idea nonetheless.
o - Possible plot hole
I realized there's a possible plot hole with Harry submitting his Guardian permits to the Ministry, without Dumbledore finding out about it. Any normal ministry would have probably sent Dumbledore an owl, informing him that his 'services' concerning Harry were no longer required. Well, you'll just have to imagine that this Ministry is very, very, VERY incompetent and leave it at that :-).
o - Sources and additional disclaimers
I forgot to mention it before, but usage of magical tents for practice is mentioned in Old Nick's "The Rise of the Gray Lord" (2091668) (It's now taken over by TheDarkestAngel16). It's a really good fic, that had gotten tangled up with HHr romance and angst in its later chapters and then abandoned. I have high hopes with it now that it's taken up again.
The encyclopaedia I used for reference is Britannica 2005.
I don't own any intellectual property mentioned above.